


People you've been

by bluebells



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Domesticity, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 14:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry is not as stupid as he lets people think, but it's a joke he shares with Roddy in his quick smirk, a wink, when nobody else is looking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	People you've been

**Author's Note:**

> Twice I attempted to write porn, both times it wound itself into Wesen youth bonding in treacly sweet ways, so I threw up my hands in defeat for the night.

Most people only see the Barry who pumps iron at the gym and cuts in front of schoolbuses in his Hummer. A big part of Barry likes upsetting people; big, oblivious smile to a chorus of outrage that follows the Jägerbar like the soundtrack of his life.

In the beginning, Roddy can't say he expected any differently, but he still let Barry tug his arm closer around his waist as the motorbike weaved through traffic. 

Barry prefers to be the hulk at every punch line, the guy who hits first and doesn't ask questions at all. Sometimes he glowers, features twisting into the bear's snarl, when Nick catches the wheels turning in his head with that faraway expression.

Most people don't see the Barry who throws a football back and forth with Nick while the Grimm forces him to recite names and dates for their history final. Barry groans and complains, but he doesn't storm off anymore, and that's an improvement.

He steals Gracie's puka necklaces only to come back at the end of the week and hide the proceeds in her coat pocket ("My cousin's selling them," Barry lies with that soft smile that makes the girls in his class giggle and cling to each other; Roddy rolls his eyes and tries not to let Barry catch him laughing). 

Monroe hides his delight when he finds a vegetarian option that doesn't make Barry gag, until Barry demands it every time he comes over. Monroe starts hiding the fried tofu and stocks up on haloumi in bulk. 

Barry and Holly perfect the art of companionable silence. Roddy thinks Barry enjoys the excuse of a language barrier so he isn't forced to carry on a conversation. Holly watches Barry type away on his phone (usually lame, dirty come-ons that pop up on Roddy's cell a minute later), and sometimes Roddy catches them playing hangman, slowly rebuilding her vocabulary.

Barry and Hanson bond over the mutual inter-species imperative for a guy to make as much noise as possible by the invention of the drums. Of course, Barry's the typical guy who'd either entertain the excuse to be a rockstar or bang around and make some noise, but that's when Roddy has to step in and show them what they're doing wrong.

Roddy knows why Hanson rolls his eyes when Barry's the first to introduce himself to Sally once Nick walks her through Monroe's front door. She's a pretty face, sweet features, and terrified to be surrounded by so many others who are like her, but still so different. They all know her tragedy. Her imperative to kill isn't driven by the survival of tradition. Barry is quiet the first day Sally joins them, but Sally accepts the puka necklace from Gracie with a shaky smile, sitting between Barry and Holly on the couch. 

When Roddy lets him, Barry picks Roddy up on the way to school, kisses him stupid in front of the entire student body by way of "I know I'm God's gift to livingkind, but survive without me 'til lunchtime". Four out of five times, Roddy does not shove him off in embarrassment.

One afternoon, while studying in Barry's room, Roddy lets himself be pulled to sit in Barry's lap. Barry watches Roddy compose the mix for his next rave that he is absolutely not planning if Nick and Monroe ever ask.

"You mistimed the cue three bars back," Barry abruptly says, pointing at the interface of sound waves on Roddy's computer.

Roddy stares at him. He's never shown this to Barry before. "Why do you let people think you're stupid? And mean?"

"I'm the big, bad Jägerbar. Hell to pay if that Blutbad gives me cold porridge." But Barry's smile is playful and his arms squeeze around Roddy's waist.

"Dunno who you're pretending for." Roddy shakes his head, turning back to his latest mix. "Everyone who matters knows what a soft touch you are."

Barry's chin rests on Roddy's shoulder. Roddy clicks and types for a few moments, weaving the beats of his new track. Barry eventually sighs, the air tickling Roddy's neck.

"Everyone who matters," Barry mutters. "Screw the rest."

Roddy bites the inside of his cheek to hide his smile. "Maybe you could not aim for the moms with prams next time they're crossing the street."

"I wasn't going to hit them!"

" _They_ didn't know that."

"It was funny."

"It's lame."

"... Okay, maybe wasn't that funny."

"It was lame," Roddy echoes, sing-song voice letting Barry know exactly where he stood.

"Fine. God. I'm sorry." Barry is rolling his eyes, Roddy can hear the exaggerated contrition in his voice. 

He turns, laughing, and Barry's mouth curves in a smile against his. Forgiveness shouldn't be this easy.

"'Save All' and give me five minutes with you on that bed," Barry murmurs, leaning his forehead to Roddy's.

Roddy scoffs under his breath. "Just five? Oh, we're talking about you--"

"Screw you, _I'll_ save--" Barry reaches past Roddy, hands flying across the keyboard before Roddy can stop him.

"Hey, hey! Be careful!"

Barry pulls away just as Roddy catches his wrists. Roddy yelps in surprise when Barry stands, holding Roddy flush against him and walks Roddy back towards the bed. "And if you're making a dig at my shower in the morning - I timed it. Four minutes, fifty-eight seconds, baby."

Roddy rolls his eyes and squeezes the hip under his hand. "Don't call me 'baby'. I'll tell Nick where Holly learned her new favourite word."

"It could've been Hanson." Barry winces at the prospect. "Why do you hurt me?"

Roddy smirks and turns them on the spot, tipping Barry onto the mattress. "I'm the nice one." Roddy crawls up his body, denim sliding on skin, Barry's shirt rides up beneath him. Barry moans happily into the kiss and slides a thigh between Roddy's legs, grinding against him, hard and lazy.

"It _is_ easier, you know," Barry says between kisses, surprising him. "If you're the nice one and I'm...."

"Barry." Roddy frowns in understanding and pulls back far enough to see the other man clearly. Barry swallows and hesitates, meeting his eyes. Roddy shakes his head. "That shit is _lame_."

Barry's features twist in disbelief. "Do you know any other words? No wonder Holly doesn't hang out with you."

"That's what I mean - _you're_ not lame, but sometimes you say and do stupid shit because you think you are. And I know it's easier just to act like the big, dumb bear and do what people tell you, but--" Roddy squeezes the knee in his hold, strokes up Barry's denim-clad thigh. Roddy's lips tug in a smile. "--I can't be the only good guy here. Don't put that pressure on me, man."

Here. You and me. Barry snorts a soft laugh and leans up, his kiss is a soothing apology. 

Barry is not just the sum of his mistakes and subversive traditions. Roddy wouldn't have agreed to go out with Barry if he still believed Barry was as simple and mean as Barry thought himself: if Barry was still that other guy, he would have cleaved Roddy's head from his shoulders and spilled his intestines on Monroe's floor as part of the natural order. 

The old Barry wouldn't have looked twice at him, he wouldn't have followed Roddy from the first gathering at Monroe's house and annoyed Roddy into agreeing to their first date (Brahms, pizza and a blowjob; the stuff of Hallmark). Old Barry wouldn't invest the time for stupidly sweet gestures like a mix tape that amounted to, "that was fun, can I keep you a little longer?" That guy wouldn't have sat up with Roddy all night when his father got thrown in jail after another drunken brawl, and been the voice of reason keeping Roddy grounded and plied with coffee.

The new Barry lets Gracie sit beside him and cry, he loans Hanson his iPod, he teaches Holly filthy words for kicks and watches Sally like he's waiting to catch her once she withers in front of his eyes. Barry eats whatever Monroe puts in front of him and still says 'thank you', even if he's wincing. He goes for a five mile run with Nick once a month and comes back a little lighter every time, surrounding Roddy in his bear-fisted hug of wordless relief.

"Fine," Barry promises, large hands threading through Roddy's curls. "I'll be good for you, baby."

Baby? Again? Roddy pinches Barry's nipple hard through his shirt and smirks at the consequent yelp. 

"Ow, geez! You're so not the nice one!"

Roddy works his shirt free over his head. "Never said I was perfect."

Barry is snickering the next time Roddy leans into his kiss, smooth and unrushed. Perfect is relative: perfect is Barry's warmth wrapping around him, sinking Roddy into the comfort of being safe and surrounded.

"If only they knew, huh?" Barry murmurs, nuzzling at Roddy's mouth.

"They know."

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [on Livejournal](http://users.livejournal.com/_bluebells/71448.html).


End file.
